First love, True love, Forever love

I seem to be reading a lot of blogs lately and finding inspiration in them.  I’ve read several posts about Forever Loves.  At 43, I don’t believe I’ve met my forever love.  In fact, I’m pretty sure I never will. 

Sure I’ve been married. Twice. I knew neither of them would be forever.  I’ve been honest about the reasons I married them.  Neither was because I was head over heals I can’t live without him want to spend the rest of my life with him in love.  Oh, I did love them, as best I could as the person I was then with what I understood about love.  All of which was painfully inadequate. 

But they were not total failures.  I have three amazingly brilliant, funny, good looking, outgoing, wonderful kids. (yes, I’m wearing mommy goggles) I have a good relationship with my 2nd ex husband, and my 1st ex husband could fall of the face of the Earth and I wouldn’t hire the search party to find him.  Oh, there would be a party, just not the searching kind.

Then there was Brian. I can honestly say, from the beginning, I thought “This is it. This is forever love.”  The stubborn hopeless romantic still wonders what if.  (look, that’s honest, but it doesn’t mean it will happen, but you know, when you believe that this is it it’s hard to let go of that, no matter what.) After 5 years, and countless break ups, it’s probably a safe bet that he isn’t my forever love. 

But he was as close as I have ever gotten.  He’s probably as close as I’ll ever get. 

My first love? I was 12. In 7th grade.  His mom made him break up with me in 8th grade because she said he was getting too serious.  At the time I thought she was cruel and I cried for a week, my poor 12 year old heart was shattered for the first time.  I thought I would probably die.  Turns out, she knew him pretty well.. he tends to get a bit obsessive.

The thing is, I hear people talk of true love, forever love, lasting love, a certain security in knowing that while their partner could leave on any given day, they know that they know that they know that they won’t.  And that is something I’ve never had.  I’m willing to accept that I never will.  Does it tug at my heart? Sure it does. Who doesn’t want to find someone who loves them, accepts them, wants to be with them day in and day out and not just on good hair days?

I believe in true love, forever love, lasting love, committed love.  I just believe it exits for other people.  At 43, I’ve missed the boat.  I chose to give my heart to men who wouldn’t protect it, who would end up breaking it, sometimes over and over again.  I’m done giving my heart away.  It’s too beat up, banged up and bruised, used and abused, I’d be hard pressed to find anyone willing to put in the work to heal it.  I’d be even harder pressed to find someone I’d be willing to let try. 

Turning off the bitch switch, and going off in search of the funny.

I know I have come here lately and whined and bitched a lot about “relationships” (and I use that term loosely) gone wrong.  They couldn’t have gone wrong, they weren’t going anywhere.

They?

It.

It wasn’t a relationship.  It was two people who spent a few nights talking on the phone until all hours of the night and convinced ourselves we had found something.

I have spent a whole lot of time here preaching about all the things I learned in therapy.  I regret that I can’t tell you some of the funniest stuff from therapy, but there’s the whole confidentiality business.  Therapy is like Vegas, what happens there, stays there.

I’m purging things from my life.  Dead weight.  People who bring me down.  I’m saying no to things I don’t want to do.  I’m saying yes to things I do want to do.  All of this is pretty basic shit that most people get and do on a daily basis, sort of like breathing.  Apparently I missed that day.  I don’t know.

I do know this.  There have been times recently that I have thought of shutting this place down.  Throwing in the towel.  I’ve watched my stats drop from thriving three figure page visits a week, to life support required barely two figure visits a week.  And I know it’s because A) I don’t write every day and B) I don’t write crap worth reading.

Yet, the thought of throwing in the towel, giving up, kinda pisses me off.  I’m not a quitter.  I mean I hang on to ‘relationships’ until they are dead and then?  Revive them zombie like until they die again.  Why would I give up MY blog so easily?

I just need to find my writing Mojo again.  Although I seriously doubt it’s laying around in Hogwarts and that’s where I’ve been as of late.  But I will find it.  I will find my funny, brilliant, witty, hilarious writing again.  Even if I have to spend an entire day purging my brain of all this left over garbage that seems to continue to hang around. Anyone have any brain bleach I can borrow?